Horoscope

ARIES (March 21April 19): " 'Don't look before you leap!' is a Zen saying that contrasts with what many in the West consider wise counsel," writes Christopher Moors in his article "Magical Buddha Nature" at tinyurl.com/34swxd. "If everything is premeditated, we never have the naked brilliance of a truly new experience. Though we might be able to temper fear in this way, we live at the minimum and have no room for the divine to enter our hearts. Love is above all things the freedom of expansion." I'm passing on this advice, Aries, just in time for the most unboxed, unexpected, unprecedented phase of your astrological cycle. Rely on spontaneity to teach you all you need to know.

TAURUS (April 20May 20): It appears you're cooperating (sort of) with an authority figure who's using the carrot-and-stick routine on you. I suppose that could lead you at least part of the way to the promised landespecially if you really believe you can't motivate yourself without the authority's prodding. But if you plan to continue in this vein, Taurus, can I please convince you to ask for the biggest, freshest carrot and a beautifully decorated stick?

GEMINI (May 21June 20): Here's Caroline Myss's explanation of faith: "Faith is the power to stand up to the madness and chaos of the physical world while holding the position that nothing external has any authority over what heaven has in mind for you." If you don't like the word "heaven" in Myss's statement, Gemini, substitute a term that works for you, like "your higher self" or "your destiny" or "your soul's code." Modify anything else in there that's not quite right for your needs, as well. When you're finished tinkering, I hope you'll have created a definition of faith that motivates you with as much primal power as you feel when you're in love.

CANCER (June 21July 22): Guinness World Records commissioned miniaturization experts to make the tiniest advertisement in history and affix it to a bee's knee. The writing was so minuscule it was invisible to the naked eye. But now I've created an even smaller ad, which is hidden in the period at the end of this sentence. I don't have enough space to repeat the voluminous information contained therein, but here's the gist: It's a favorable time to dream up new ways to promote yourself, especially if they involve the principle of unleashing whispers that speak louder than shouts.

LEO (July 23Aug. 22): Swedish philosopher Emanuel Swedenborg predicted the world would end in 1757. American minister William Miller proclaimed the planet's "purification by fire" would occur in 1844. They're just two of history's many megalomaniacs disguised as moral guardians who've been shills for apocalyptic delusions. Our age has more of these wackos per capita, but the song is the same as it ever was. Your assignment, Leo, is to wash the taint of chronic doom-and-gloom propaganda out of your lovely brain. I'm not urging you to be a raving Pollyanna, merely suggesting that you exorcise the fear foisted on you by hysterical prophets of every stripe. That includes peak-oil fanatics, Luddites who preach the gospel of techno-catastrophe, religious fundamentalists hyping Armageddon, and all the other nihilistic storytellers. You urgently need to declare your independence from our culture's professional scaremongers.

VIRGO (Aug. 23Sept. 22): St. Thomas Aquinas (12251274) was an intellectual theologian whose doctrines became part of the canon of the Catholic Church, second in importance only to the Bible. But the Church has ignored and disavowed Aurora Consurgens, the work Aquinas reputedly wrote near the end of his life after having mystical visions of the Goddess. "All that I have written seems to me like so much straw," he reported, "compared to what I have seen and what has been revealed to me." Your assignment, Virgo, is to carry out your personal equivalent of what the Catholic Church hasn't been able to do. In other words, integrate the raw wisdom from your past that you've been unable or hesitant to acknowledge.

LIBRA (Sept. 23Oct. 22): I asked my readers if they had discovered any of the 888 Perfect Secrets from the Beginning of Time. Hundreds of responses poured in. Of those, I've selected the three that are most useful for you right now. Here they are. (1) Don't sweat the small stuff, but also avoid the mistake of believing that everything is small stuff. Some stuff is big. (2) The past isn't nearly as potent in shaping your present as you imagine. Get over itboth the bad memories and the good ones. (3) Always side with those who tell the most truth. But remember that no one is ever able to tell the whole truth.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23Nov. 21): "I've found a nice balance," writes Ash-land, one of my MySpace friends, "between living like someone who has overdosed on positive affirmations and someone who thinks everything and everyone sucks." Are you interested in achieving a similar poise, Scorpio? Conditions are favorable for you to do so. The omens say you're primed to cultivate true objectivity, not the fake cynical kind. And that means you could free yourself from negative emotional biases that cloud your ability to see the partially hidden beauty all around you.